Fourteenth
by TonyTheShirker
Summary: The Thirteenth Doctor is dying, the TARDIS is hurtling towards Earth, and nothing seems to be stopping it. Now, the TARDIS is dead, the Doctor has Regenerated, and a boy seems to be showing strange symptoms. Just what is going on?
1. Fourteenth Prologue: The End

**Welcome to my Doctor Who FanFic, Fourteenth. Some Author's Notes before we begin. The following story is set AFTER the present series of Doctor Who (Series Five – 2010, Matt Smith's first series), and takes place the death of the Thirteenth Doctor, hence the title Fourteenth. I have done this for several reasons. First off, I wanted to create my own Doctor, and I didn't want to upset fans of existing Doctors. I also wanted my story to remain possible for as long as possible...**

**Prologue Notes: This Prologue is simply to set the scene. The plot behind what is happening is something I have no intentions of explaining. Thirteen is injured, and dying, and the TARDIS is crashing. The Prologue is something I MAY re-write. The TARDIS speaks in the Prologue, but that was my choice. If people complain about it, I may do a version of the Prologue in which the TARDIS does not speak. A lot is unexplained in this Chapter, and I hope to explain it as the story goes on. Enjoy.**

Fourteenth:

A Doctor Who FanFic

by Tony Hinton

Prologue: The End

"Here it comes... I... I can't stop it!" yelled the skinny looking man as he's suddenly tossed into the air, landing on his elbows and sliding back over the cold metal grating of the floor. Smoke bellowed from every hole in the ship, sparks danced frantically above his head. The loud whirring of the ships centre console grows erratic, sounding almost human, as if it were suffering from cardiac arrest. The cylindrical shaped object in the centre of the pillar pumps up and down as the ship hurtles from side to side. _Systems Failing... _the female voice echoes around the massive interior as fires begin to sprout up, portions of large rock tumble from the ceiling. _All Systems Failing... Loosing Orbit... Impact in Sixty Five Seconds... _The soft female voice continues, sounding not entirely mechanical. Behind the computerised voice lay a strong hint of concern. The man stumbles to his feet, clutching his stomach before being violently flung in the opposite direction. He lands on the console, his back making a loud snapping noise. "UGH!! I... I CAN'T! It's already begun!" He screams, pulling his hand from the console to examine it. A gold dust began to dance around his skin, giving it a warm glow. But something wasn't right. This strange occurrence, it wasn't here to save him, but to kill him. "My Thirteen lives are up... I can't save them!"

_Doctor... Please... Collision with M-Class Planet below at this specific moment in the space time continuum will result in the annihilation of approximately Seven Million Species. _The female voice pleads as the room shudders and creaks, jerking violently still."I can't! I don't have the time... I can already feel it, I'm too weak..." The Doctor groans, falling to his hands, instantly being thrown to the side. _The only logical resolution is to self destruct, Doctor- "_NO!! YOU are important, YOU are the LAST TARDIS in existence! I will NOT let today be the extermination of both TARDIS kind, Timelord kind AND the Human kind." The feminine words seemed to give him a little strength as the golden glow encompasses his entire body, hiding his form completely. "I can't stop it... But perhaps... If I can just save SOMETHING!" The Doctor yells, pulling himself to his feet and stumbling forward. Through grit teeth, the Doctor is launched across the console, knocking over several buttons and levers as he tumbles off the consoles edge. He lands in a pile of junk, and then, he sees it. A small curved plank of what looked like mere plastic. "A-HA! THAT old thing! I knew it would come in handy!" He yells in joy, pulling the device towards him, and springing onto his feet. The gold glow seems to pulse, seeming to fade a little as the Doctor moves energetically. Leaning forward, the Doctor clings to the console, placing the device on it.

_Doctor... That device is old and no longer functioning... _The voice alerts him through alarms and small explosions. The Doctor didn't seem to listen, pulling a small metallic looking device from his pocket and pointing it at the device he'd just found. "I just need ONE burst from it! JUST ONE!" A red glow emits from the end of the Doctor's magic wand, spreading over the device. _Doctor, increasing power to the __Tribophysical waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator will only overload it causing it to expire into a state of disrepair! _The voice was now frantic with concern. "I don't care! If it blows up, so do we... But if it doesn't... What if it doesn't?" Sparks fly from the device as the Doctor pulls some wires from the console, stitching them into the body of the Extrapolator. He groans in pain, doubling over gritting his teeth as the golden glow pulsates, bigger and brighter than before. "WORK DAMMIT!" He yells, standing up straighter and pointing his wand at the Extrapolator, the red light whirring from it's tip. _Doctor, Ten Seconds till impact!_

Flames lick at the spinning blue box as it whirs and speeds towards the surface of the Earth. A groaning noise of heavy engines is heard as the wooden Police Box seems to fade in and out of existence as it tears through the clouds, hurtling for the small green island in the planets Northern hemisphere. The box looked battered and worn, it's paint scorned and the glass windows shattered. Inside the blue box, no one would have suspected the vast interior, the interior which was presently hosting the inbound disaster. "WORK!" The Doctor commands, standing up and kicking at the console, his heel dropping on the damaged Extrapolator. It sparks at the Doctor's surprise. After a pause, it whirs, lights on it's surface beginning to flicker. "...It's... It's working? It's WORKING!" The Doctor raises both hands into the air, cheering in victory. But it was not too last. The gold glow pulses, causing him to pause. He falls forward onto the console, collapsing. His breathing slows as his skin seems to fade into white. "It's... It's finally... over..." He whispers, his eyes closing. "My... TARDIS... My sweet sweet TARDIS... Save yourself... And save Earth... Please... Th-Thank you... For... Everything..." The Doctor whispers, his breathing vanishing amongst the alarm bells, until finally... Silence. The alarms, the sparks, the explosions, yet somehow it was silent. The pain that moment brought was unbearable. After a small eternity, the gold glow around the Doctor fades, leaving him as nothing more than a fossil. _D-Doctor...?! _She knew it was already too late. A large fire bursts out from the console as sparks fly. _Three seconds..._ The voice tells itself. But then, a new thought came to her. Determination. _I WILL save you, Doctor. I do not need to save myself, or Earth... You have saved us both already. I WILL save you, Doctor._ The remaining gold dust seems to suck into the console as if it contained a vacuum. And finally, one last explosion. Every light goes out, leaving the TARDIS in pure darkness.

The blue box hurtles towards the surface at an alarming rate, the whirring of it's engines having now vanished. It was just a wooden box. The object speeding through the skies, tearing O-zone with it had alerted people on the ground of its presence. The shadow of night would never conceal a spectacle so bright, flames lapping the rotating box. The ground grows nearer, and then finally... Dust is sent rocketing into the air as the earth shudders, rocks flying into the air behind the tall metallic buildings, glass shattering at the impact. As the earth settles, silence resumes. There was no explosion, no big bang. The wooden box had merely smashed into the surface of Earth. The box had landed in the middle of a small park, colliding with a footpath that run between trees. The street lights around the path had died with the impact, sending the area into darkness. Darkness and silence was all that remained. The once great time machine was now nothing more than rubble, some odd looking components, and some tarnished blue wooden panels. In amongst the ruins lay the body of a man, his face burnt and bruised, his clothes ripped to pieces. And next to him, there was another man. Younger, and somehow out of place. His clothes, unlike the other man, were fitting to this particular time in Earth's history. This man was covered in soot, cuts and dust. Yet slowly, his chest rises.


	2. Fourteenth Chapter One: Dylan

**Welcome to my Doctor Who FanFic, Fourteenth. Some Author's Notes before we begin. The following story is set AFTER the present series of Doctor Who (Series Five – 2010, Matt Smith's first series), and takes place the death of the Thirteenth Doctor, hence the title Fourteenth. I have done this for several reasons. First off, I wanted to create my own Doctor, and I didn't want to upset fans of existing Doctors. I also wanted my story to remain possible for as long as possible...**

**Chapter One Notes: Enter my first OC, Dylan. Dylan is my protagonist. Alongside the new Doctor. However, I'm not treating the Doctor as an OC. I'm hoping this story has enough plot to keep people reading. Let me know what you think. Enjoy. **

Fourteenth:

A Doctor Who FanFic

by Tony Hinton

Chapter One: Dylan

'Srry man, it's l8, I have work 2mrrw' appears on the small glowing screen of his mobile phone. Quickly checking it, he presses the 'send' button, sending his message to his friend. Flipping his phone closed, he pockets it, his hands remaining in his pockets as he wanders through the park. It was nearly 2am, and he hadn't planned on staying out even this late. Still, if he made it back to his flat before 2.30am, he could still get a few hours of sleep before his 6am start. The sight was nothing unusual. A long man like himself wandering through a park at this time in the morning was common sight. It would be even more common if he weren't sober. His jeans, although new, were tattered at the bottom of the legs, shred denim draped over his worn black trainers. He smiles, looking upward into the stars, the cool night was rather pleasant. But something above was wrong. In amongst the stars there was something that shouldn't have been. Something was stirring in the sky. Out of curiosity, the young man pulls his hands from his pockets and drops them by his side, stopping cold on the old stone path. His charcoal jacket flaps slightly in the wind, revealing his shirt underneath. He squints his clear blue eyes, focusing in on the tiny flicker of light in the sky. A star, an aeroplane? No, whatever this thing was, it was wrong. And, to his surprise, it seemed to be getting brighter. No, not brighter... it was getting closer. Out of surprise, he raises his left hand to his brow, and sweeps his messy black hair from his eyes. "...What the hell?" His low voice mutters aloud. With that, a thought occurs to him, and he quickly looks around. There was no one there, no one else to question about this phenomenon.

After a few seconds of looking, he turns and looks back up to the sky. His eyes widen in instant fear at what he saw. The object was closer, but way closer than he had expected. He could almost make it out as it penetrated the atmosphere and hurtled towards them. No... Not just them, but him. It was hurtling directly at him. Swallowing hard, he takes a step back, watching the object closely. It seemed like some kind of blue box. But why would a blue box be falling from the sky, hurtling straight for him? All this thought had wasted time, the speeding object now looked closer than ever, way too close. It was going to hit him! In panic, he turns and starts running, his arms pumping furiously by his sides, his chest panting heavily as he tries to run as far away from the object as he could. Yet the faster he run, the more it seemed to gain on him. His black hair is blown about by the wind, as he moves as fast as his legs could carry him. Finally, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he looks over his shoulder. The flaming blue box rips through the clouds, tearing straight for him. With a gasp of fear he looks straight forward, and moves faster than he though possible. Unbeknown to him, on his left trainer, the worn out shoe lace had began to untangle itself, and then, after one last jar, it slips free. A yelp of panic runs from his lips as his left leg is pulled back from under him, his shoe lace trapped under his foot. The boy is thrown forward, launched into the air. Instinct makes him hold his hands out, to catch his fall. The tarmac tears into his hands and cheek, cutting him and covering him in small amounts of black dust. With a groan, he rolls over, and looks up. The box races into the park, spinning furiously. His eyes widen further with his final realisation. It was going to hit him. He closes his eyes, and braces for impact.

A wave of dust, smoke and tarmac sweeps through the park, the collision making a small 'bang'. As the dust settles, and the air clears, silence resumes in the area. The park was now home to a small crater, right in the middle of the tarnished footpath. Strange components and parts lay scattered across the park, an impossible number of pieces. How could such a small box have left this much debris. In the middle of the crater lay the largest collection of obscure items and alien technology, all of it dull and silent. All of it dead. Beneath the rubble and wreckage, lay two bodies. The first was the boy. He lay on his back, his clothes ripped and torn, small cuts covering his body, his face covered in soot and dust. Yet, for some reason, he was still in one piece. The injuries he had sustained seemed far too minor for something of this scale. He had just been hit by a large wooden box that had fallen from orbit, yet he looked like he'd just fallen from his bike. Large circular components and glass tubing lay scattered over his body, parts that resembled some sort of console, or controls. At the other side of the small crater lay another body. This one looked much older. But the poor soul, lay destroyed under the ashes. His face burnt and torn beyond recognition. His body crumbled and broken, his burn clothes tattered and ripped. The two lay amongst the broken machine, is eternal silence. And then, a whisper...

Gold dust hisses from under the largest piece of rubble, running from its seams like a golden river. The tinted air flows from the wreckage, breezing over the two bodies, as if caressing their skin. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it had gone, fading into the night. Silence resumes. Only now, something was different. Something was moving. The chest of the young man was slowly rising, and then falling. Rising and then falling. He was breathing. One breath, and then two... and then finally... A gasp. The young man sat up, his eyes wide with fear as he scans the area. "W-What?! What... Just... What the?!" Was all he could think to say. Looking down to the debris he panics, and pushes himself out from under the large components. As the console rocks, the boy can see the other body, hidden beneath the rubble. With surprise, the boy jumps to his feet, his clothes now hanging off him, ripped and battered. Quickly he darts around the debris, and dives to the man's side, kicking broken components aside. Throwing his hand forward, he places his fingers to the man's neck. No pulse. He waits to be sure, but still... Nothing. The young man grits his teeth in annoyance, unaware of the blood that was trickling down his forehead. Pausing to think, the boy finally reaches into this pocket, and pulls out his mobile phone, flipping it open. Without looking at it, he presses the button '9' three times, and brings the phone to his ear. Silence. The phone was dead. In panic, he looks to his phone. The screen was black, with a large crack running down it. It was broken. In anger, he launches his phone at the ground, shattering it as it becomes just another part of the rubble.

"CRAP!" The boy snaps, looking around the park. It was dark, there was nothing left. No street lamps, no signs of life, nothing. The park was now a scrap yard. Without a thought, the boy turns and runs, sprinting down the path, stepping on the rubble as he ran, his shoes ripping to shreds as he ran, the metal cutting into his feet. He groans and grits his teeth, bursting through the park on his poor feet. Finally, he breaks the sea of debris, and tears off through the grass, running towards civilisation, towards the street lights and cars. Parked to the side of the road was a lone black car. A classic looking taxi. But more importantly, it bore on it's roof an orange light. The sign that the taxi was unoccupied. The boys breathing becomes heavy panting as his body struggles to function. Leaping from the pavement to the road, he literally jumps into the side of the taxi, scaring the hell out of the driver behind the wheel. Throwing open the door, the boy jumps inside. "You gotta get help, there's been an accident!! Call the Police, Ambulance, call the Fire Department!! Hell, call the AA, call the Ghostbusters, get EVERYONE!!" He yells, suddenly pausing. The taxi was spinning, it's black leather interior seeming to look closer, and closer, and then finally, it all went black.

"Heh, looks like you've had one hell of a night..." The taxi driver chuckles, leaning over his seat and pulling the kid into the passenger seat. With another stretch, he pulls the door closed, and then reaches into the kids pocket, pulling out the boy's tattered wallet. Opening up, he finds what he was looking for. A ten pound note. Taking the note, he puts it into his own pocket, muttering to himself. "That'll cover you to the hospital." With that, the black motor vehicle pulls out onto the street, alight with the golden glow of street lamps, turning around and slowly driving down the slight hill, vanishing into the valley of steel and glass that was the large city.

In the park, something more was happening. The broken corpse of the man, still buried beneath the once great machine, suddenly gives a violent twitch. His pale skin suddenly glows into a bright gold, and then dies. It pulses a second time, flashing as the body gives another twitch. The silence of the night is suddenly ruptured by a loud scream, a scream that echoes across the park. Rivers of gold burst violently from the body, searing it in a white glow. The screaming roars through the trees, wailing to the heavens as the corpse seems to burst back into life, flooding the park in a gold blaze. The sea of searing hot white washes over the man, replacing his features, scolding them into new ones. The pitch of his scream seemed to get lower, deeper in tone as his body twitches further, seeming to grow a little, underneath the tattered shreds that had once been his clothing. Finally, as quick as it had started, the glow vanishes, leaving darkness once more. But when the gold glow had vanished, it seemed to have left something behind. The man beneath the rubble was not the same man. The man left behind was slightly taller, with an average build, not nearly as skinny as the man who had apparently vanished into thin air. His hair was messy, and slightly long looking, draped over one of his closed eyes, and reaching just above his shoulders. The hair was a dark dirty blond colour, with a soft red tint. It also appeared to have greyed a little, giving his hair a somewhat dull look. But perhaps the most spectacular thing about him, was that his skin was untouched. There was not a scratch on him, not even a speck of dust. With the exception of his ripped and torn clothing, which were now clearly ill fitting, his skin looked like it had never even been touched. It was almost as if he had been reborn...

...Meanwhile...

"Dylan? Dylan, can you hear me?" The soft, calm words of the stranger echoed softly in Dylan's ears. Steadily, he opens his eyes, the piercing white light of the room causing him to squint a little. "There's a good boy..." The voice in his head continues. Towering over him in the bright light, there was a dark shadow. As he adjusts to the light, the man comes into a view. It was an average looking brown haired man, somewhere in his early thirties. "Just take it easy... I'm a Doctor."

"D-Doctor?" He heard his own voice say. Talking proved a little difficult, as if he'd been winded. His head ached a little, yet things were finally beginning to return to normality. The man stood still, a kind smile on his face. His clothing backed up his claim, the long white coat and name tag confirming he was a Doctor. "H-How do you know my name?" The Doctor smiles a little wider, giving a soft chuckle. "My name is Doctor Murray. I'm the Chief of Medicine here. You had your wallet with you, we found your Driver's license." Dr. Murray explains clearly. "You were in some sort of accident. There appears to be no serious injuries, just some minor cuts. You passed out in a Taxi, the driver brought you here. We've been trying to bring you around for the last thirty minutes." Dylan sat up, rubbing his head a little as this information ran through his head. He looks to the floor, looking away from Dr. Murray. He seemed to be trying to assess the situation. Something didn't feel quite right. "Wait... You say I'm fine? No injuries?" Dylan asks, his brow furrowing as he looks up to the Doctor. "Nothing serious." Dr. Murray comments with a clinical smile. "Then... if I'm fine, and there's nothing wrong with me... Why isn't a nurse doing this? If all I have is a few scratches, why have they assigned me Chief of Medicine?" Dr. Murray's smile fades, now becoming a straight and serious looking frown.

"... We need you to stay here. Our tests aren't complete, with a case such as this one, we need to be sure." He explains, somehow without explaining anything at all. "Case such as this?" Dylan repeats. "What exactly is a 'case such as this'? Tell me what's wrong, why are you here?" Dylan seemed a little wound up. Something was out of alignment here, and he wasn't one to let it go. If something was wrong with him, he wanted to know. "Calm down." Dr. Murray orders. "Look... You're a clever kid. That much is obvious. So I won't lie to you... There's something suspicious about your case." Murray seems to hang his head a little, giving a small sigh. "As far as we can tell, there is nothing wrong with you... But you're displaying certain symptoms. We have requested an expert in such things and we ask you to wait until we can properly examine you." Dylan sat up on his bed, watching the Doctor with a furrowed brow, taking in all he was saying. "Symptoms?" Dylan asks simply, his expression not changing. The question seemed to stump Murray for a second. He turns away from Dylan, towards a metallic tray, and then turns back to Dylan holding a syringe, who eyes the needle carefully. "...I'm not sure how to explain it. When you came in, we wanted to X-ray you, to see if you had any broken bones. But you were still unconscious, and we didn't want you waking up under the X-ray. If you'd have acted violently or confused..." He sighs mid sentence, realising what he was saying didn't matter, and decided to get to the point. "We tried to give you a light sedative. But..." Again, Murray looked stumped. "Let me show you." He takes a step closer, raising the syringe a little. Dylan pauses and tenses a little, but as the Doctor nears him, he eases up. Murray carefully takes Dylan's arm, and holds it, while his other hand positions the needle against his flesh. "Watch..." Murray instructs, finally pressing the needle against his skin. To the expectations of Murray, and the surprise of Dylan, the needle didn't penetrate. The Doctor presses harder, but still nothing. Dylan's flesh was compressing and flexing, and he could certainly feel the needle, yet it refused to break the skin. Murray gives one final push, and the needle snaps off, speeding across the room. Dylan's eyes were wide with amazement, he wasn't sure what to think. Murray looks up and catches his eyes, a kind and concerned look in his eyes. "Please Dylan... Stay."


	3. Fourteenth Chapter Two: New Shoes

**Welcome to my Doctor Who FanFic, Fourteenth. Some Author's Notes before we begin. The following story is set AFTER the present series of Doctor Who (Series Five – 2010, Matt Smith's first series), and takes place the death of the Thirteenth Doctor, hence the title Fourteenth. I have done this for several reasons. First off, I wanted to create my own Doctor, and I didn't want to upset fans of existing Doctors. I also wanted my story to remain possible for as long as possible...**

**Chapter Two Notes: The Doctor finally establishes himself, and we see the bad guys of my story. I'm not proud of the first encounter with the bad guys, I might redo it at a later date. Opinions? Enjoy.**

Fourteenth:

A Doctor Who FanFic

by Tony Hinton

Chapter Two: New Shoes

The cold night air is drawn into his chest through his nose, a relaxed look washing over his body. Breathing felt good. A smirk takes place on his face as his eyes open for the first time. The golden brown eyes stare up at the sky, watching the stars. For a few seconds, he stares up at the sky in silence, admiring the dark space above him. But then, the smile fades. His brow furrows instantly, his smirk turning into a scorning look. "Impossible." He states, his voice sounding a little lower than he had anticipated. "I never get used to that..." The alien voice mutters to himself. As he lay on his back, his memories slowly seem to sink back into him, trying to recall what had just happened. Was a groan, he sits up, resting his arms on his knees. His eyebrows arc up in concern as he notices the junk yard he was sitting in. "...No!" He yells, suddenly leaping to his feet, stumbling just a little. Instantly, he starts throwing pieces of burnt components over, turning them upside down as if looking for something. There was no way, no way that his beloved TARDIS could perish. Not now.

"There has to be something..." He mutters, his hands digging through the wreckage. The tall, average looking man seemed to be paying special attention to the components that used to form the machines controls, browsing speedily through it's console. The whole thing was quite a spectacle, this man in worn, burnt clothing, digging through machinery that could only be described and alien. However, laying on top of the alien and foreign rubble, there was one thing that grabbed the man's attention. A mobile phone. Instantly, he had recognised that it didn't belong to him. Pausing his search briefly, he leans down, and picks up the phone. The thing was broken and scratched. Had it been in the crash too? The man wondered, placing the phone in his tattered pocket. It was one of his least concerns. He sighs, looking over the rest of scrap metal that had once been his beloved home. Balling his fists, a new wave of determination hits him, causing him to dig deeper into another pile of burnt out alien technology.

As soon as his energy has come, it went, forcing him to stop and stand, trying to grab his bearings. His body was new, it was still burning. Bringing his right hand to his forehead, he closes his eyes, and tries to focus, trying to think things through. He needed answers to figure this one out, but without the TARDIS, he had nothing. That thought alone was causing him so much pain, pain he had to bury in order to keep going. "My screwdriver!" He bursts, digging into the tattered pocket of his old clothes, pulling out a narrow cylindrical device. It looked somewhere between a pen and a screwdriver, with a rounded tip at the end. The device, however, had not escaped the accident unharmed. It looked severely buckled, with scorch marks tainting it's once sleek appearance. The irritated look seems to occupy the man's face again as he slides one of the controls on the device upward, causing sparks to pop from it. Pressing on it's primary button, the tip flashes bright red, a whirring noise bursting from it and flickering. The device was broken, struggling into life. Through gritted teeth, the man curses, twirling the device in his hands, his fingers pressing on a few buttons. With one final twirl, he points it to the ground, and slams hard with his thumb on the button on the base. "C'mon!" He orders as a red light bursts from it, shorting ever second or so.

The device scans the area nearest to the man, as he moves his arms about, hoping for anything he could find. Just some sort of reading. Anything. Just when he seems to give up, his finger seeming to slowly relax on the button, the whirring of the sonic whistling seems to vary in pitch, causing the man to snap to attention. Without a thought, he slides back the control on the screwdriver, pockets it, and dives into the area from which the scan had indicated. He shoves both hands into the pile of scrap, and begins vigorously scooping it to the sides. He freezes as a pale golden glow seems to emit from beneath the rusted and burnt metallic debris. "...Found you!" He snaps, reaching his hand straight into the rubble, grabbing at the source of the glow. Gently, he pulls out a closed fist, and brings it to his face. Only then does he open his fist, the golden glow washing over his face.

There in his hands was a small, golden orb, no bigger than a marble. It's texture seemed sleek and pure, the small object seeming to control a golden liquid that swirls around inside of it, causing a soft wave of golden dust to float around it. The light it gave of was weak, pulsing softly. Barely visible, hidden in front of the light, small cracks riddled the orb's surface. "Oh, look at you... I'm so sorry..." He whispers, wrapping his fist around the orb, holding it protectively. He hangs his head and closes his eyes, trying to get this thoughts together. What was he to do? In the silence, he could hear a soft beating. One he recognised immediately. His two hearts. The man's soft smirk returns. At least he was still alive. As that thought hits him, the smirk fades again. But why was he alive? He wasn't supposed to be. There was only one explanation. He looks to his fist and kisses it softly. "You did this..." He whispers again.

In the distance, a noise pierces the air. A siren. The man hangs his head, and stands up, standing tall and observing the wreckage around him. He couldn't stay here. If he was found... well, it would be a lot more trouble. He looks to the orb and frowns. "I will save you. I will HEAL you. Because after all... I am the Doctor!" He states proudly, clenching his free fist. Taking in one last breath, the Doctor pockets the orb and looks from the wreckage for the first time, to scan his surroundings. Spotting what he was looking for, he makes his way through the park, at a quickened pace, jogging through what was left of his TARDIS. The sirens grow louder, as the man vanishes into the surrounding trees.

...Elsewhere...

"Look, I just want to get home." The soft voice pleads, wrapping her arm around his, pressing against him as the wander down the silent street, the orange glow of the street lights sending pale, blurry shadows across their forms. "I know, I know... This is the quickest way. We cut through the Links, takes us right to Bruntsfield..." He explains with a grumble, his eyes fixed forward, navigating them into a small alley way, amongst two large flats. The orange glow fades instantly, the two forms becoming shrouded in pure black. "It was good to see the girls from work, but I'm so damn tired. Glad I'm not Jill, she's in at Seven tomorrow." She chuckles tiredly, her eyes closed as she lets her boyfriend guide her through the alley. Suddenly, much to her confusion, he stops dead.

"Honey? What's wrong?" She asks curiously, looking up at him. It was too dark, all she could see was his silhouette. Silence ensues, her boyfriend looking frozen still. She couldn't make out any details of his face. "Sweetie?" She pries again, her words sounding more desperate. Still he doesn't move. "...Run." He groans, his voice strained, as if he hadn't had a drink in about four weeks. "What?" She asks, panic now on her face as her arm uncoils from his. "Their... in my head... RUN!" He growls again, turning to her. Slowly she takes a step back, retreating backwards towards the alley's entrance. "...K-Kevin?... Kevin, this isn't funny!" She scorns at him, the panic in her voice overwhelming any anger. With one more step backwards, the orange glow of the street lamps flood her form, lighting her up again. It almost seemed bright compared to the darkness of the alley.

His arms reach out for her, slowly taking steps out of the alleyway. The light washes over his arms, yet they were still black, surrounded in shadows. Her eyes widen in fear, slowly moving back as the black form of her boyfriend nears. "RUN!" He orders again, more if his form pulling the shadows from the alley, his body shrouded completely in darkness, even as the light covers his form. His body seemed void of personality, just a black mass now. Her eyes well up, no clue what to do, how to handle the situation. Suddenly, he stops, his arms hung in the air as his head arcs back, his voice grunting in pain. He screams silently as the shadows rip through his mind, devouring his brain. As quickly as it had began, he leans forward again, the black mass looking at her. "...Earth destroyed our home. Now we will feast on Earth." The voice states calmly. It was still his voice, but those were not his words.

Her scream pierces the night. Pulling her arm to her chest, tears run from her eyes as she turns, running from the man as fast as she can. She didn't know what to think. She was scared to death, that man... that mass... what the hell was it? The only thing she knew for certain, was that it was no longer her boyfriend. And that thought scared her more than anything. Was Kevin dead?

The black humanoid mass watches as she runs off, into the vast city. It's arms lower slowly, dropping to it's sides. And then, without any warning, it collapses to the pavement, falling to the ground. It's shadow stretches outward slowly, seeping into the night.

...Meanwhile...

The high pitched whirring noise pops the old metal latch, the wooden door popping open easily. The Doctor smiles as he inches inside, scanning the area for the inevitable white box, the box that should house the shops security system. He found it quickly enough, and presses his screwdriver to it's casing, pressing the button, causing the wounded red light to flicker into life again, silencing the alarm before it even protested. The Doctor frowns as the screwdriver seems to whimper, finally giving up as it whistles into silence. Repeatedly, the Doctor taps the button, but to no avail. The sonic device had whirred for it's last time. The Doctor sighs, stepping into the darkly lit shop, the only light from the street lamps, the orange glow flowing through the shops big open windows.

The shop itself looked old and run down. Nothing fancy, just a small, family owned charity shop. Rails outlined the room, filled with old clothes that others had donated, with other random objects laying on shelves. Baskets of old toys lay in the centre of the room, with a small room to the side. A worn brown curtain separated the room, hiding the changing room from the rest of the store. With a disappointed sigh, the Doctor places the broken sonic screwdriver onto the shops counter, and then digs deep into his pockets. He places the broken mobile phone next to the screwdriver, and then pulls out the small, golden orb, gently resting it down next to the sonic screwdriver. His hazel eyes watch it sadly as he turns to view the shop. "Let's get out of these clothes..." He mutters to himself.

At a relaxed pace, the Doctor browses the rows of clothing, pulling out a few hangers that held objects of interest. He seemed to take pride in his selection, making sure that he found what he was looking for. Finally, with a small selection of clothing draped over his left arm, he steps into the changing room, letting the tattered curtain dangle behind him. He hums to himself softly, pulling the cord attached to the small rooms ceiling. A yellow light bursts from the lone bulb, filling the small room. Streams of light flow from around the curtains edges. For the first time, the Doctor could see his new face. He looked a little taken aback, at first leaning away from the wall length mirror in front of him. Frowning, he leans in, examining himself. "I'm... old..." He mutters, the bags under his eyes and crows feet destroying the youth his form once had. He reaches up and pulls on his long, once golden hair. "And... I'm ginger?" He frowns instantly. "Why would I want to be ginger?"

After a few moments, the Doctor steps out from the curtain, no longer looking like some lunatic who had escaped from a car crash. He smiles, looking down at himself, for the first time feeling like he was in his own skin. He wore a dull shirt, not grey, not white, but somewhere in the middle. It had a soft blue hue to it. Around his collar hung a neatly tied grey tie, which trails of under a brown, fuzzy V-neck jumper. He was wearing grey suit pants, that seemed to match the tie in colour. On his feet, were brown shoes, looking fairly respectable. Finally, topping it off was an unbuttoned, double breasted jacket, a dull green in colour, with brown leather patches on the elbows. He grins, moving his feet and examining them. "Love the feeling of new shoes." He mutters, finally turning back into the changing room. He examines his hair. The dull, blond and orange colour hair hung from his head, running down his neck, reaching past his shoulders. The Doctor frowns, and pulls up an elastic band, messing with his hair, forcing it into a ponytail. His hair lay bunched at the back, a small leaf of hair tracing his neck. His fringe parted on the left, curling around his brow. The Doctor smiles, looking into his own hazel eyes.

"There... Say 'Hello' to the new Doctor."


End file.
